In My Soul
by chasing thunder
Summary: Lord Voldemort only knows Natalia Tremlett's name because she loves The Boy Who Lived. When Harry cannot rescue Talia from the Dark Lord, she is made into an example for the rest of the Wizarding World. Bow down to Voldemort's power, or suffer the consequences.


Harry Potter and all subsequent characters, locations, and plots are the property of J.K. Rowling.  
I am merely borrowing her world in which to create my own story.  
I do, however, own that which you do not recognize, including characters, locations, and plot.  
© 2013: chasing thunder

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**December 18, 1996.**

It is a cozy winter's eve in the Highlands of Scotland.

Lessons had been suspended upon the five o'clock bell, dinner had been consumed in the Great Hall, and the teachers' nightly sweep to round up roaming students in the corridors had begun.

The library at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had closed at precisely eight o'clock—a feat that Madam Pince performed daily for the past ten years and likely would continue for many years to come. Those students who had decided to inhabit the library on this particular Wednesday evening hurried from the room with the librarian breathing heavily down their backs. It should be stated here that those select few persons who braved the vulture-like witch's accusatory stare felt relief upon their exit. And understandably so, for it is innately difficult to do research with an overbearing presence looming over shoulders and brandishing feather dusters under noses.

Of those students, a trio of female Gryffindors walk together, their schoolbags slung over their shoulders and their heads bowed as they converse in low tones. The tallest of the three, a dark-haired beauty with wide blue eyes, laughs upon finishing her amusing tale, and her other two friends follow suite, their smiles wide and happy. The second girl, a redhead that is shorter than the first and slightly plumper, adds a teasing quip and then nudges her friend in the ribs lightly.

Again, laughter overtakes the group, and their merriment carries down the corridor, much to the displeasure of a certain Potions Master who stands at their backs with his upper lip curled into a menacing sneer. His narrowed eyes track their progress closely, and once satisfied that the girls are heading in the direction of their dormitory, he disappears in a swirl of billowing black robes.

The last of the girls is shorter than the first, but taller than the second. She too has dark hair and chocolate eyes beneath heavy brows that could be mistaken as overbearing upon preliminary study. Luckily, the girl's lips are nearly always turned upwards into a smile, and so her cheerfulness more than makes up for the oft mistaken first impression.

Nevertheless, the three students pick their way across the castle, jumping the well-known sunken steps, and successfully avoiding Peeves, who, it should be known, was currently busy bewitching the suits of armor to insult any person unlucky enough to attempt to pass through their corridor.

Gryffindor Tower comes into view at last, and the leader of the group doesn't even pause in her continuation of her anecdote to give the password. Instead, she slips the word ("baubles", for any curious readers) in the middle of her sentence, and pointedly ignores the Fat Lady's huff of irritation.

And so the three girls clamber through the circular doorway and enter the familiar common room. It is unusually loud tonight, though the increase of noise might be blamed on the upcoming winter holidays and students' rising cases of cabin fever. Or perhaps the massive, garish poster advertising a Christmas discount for Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes could be the cause of excitement, particular amongst the younger years.

Be that as it may, two of the girls turn to their immediate left and head for a free sofa in order to complete their unfinished Tranfiguration essays, but the third girl pauses in the doorway and scans the common room for a particular face.

The person that she is searching for is seated close to the fire, his back up against a particularly squashy armchair, wherein a familiar bushy haired witch is perched with an enormous text in her lap. He is gazing into the fire, but turns upon feeling eyes rest upon his lean frame.

Bright green eyes meet dark brown, and the girl blushes healthily before both teenagers shyly deflect their gazes to the floor. Quickly, so as to catch up with her friends, the girl turns and moves away. Had the girl in question been looking, she would have realized that Harry Potter was smiling fondly in her direction.

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Author's Note:  
This is my first posting to this site, and I'm not even entirely sure that I've managed to do so properly. My apologies if I've done it wrong somehow, and please do let me know if there needs to be any corrections on my end.

That being said, thank you for reading if you've made it this far. I promise that this prologue is as vague and drawn-out as the story gets. I will switch tenses and POV for the first real chapter, so have no fear that the rest of the story is written in this manner.

Please review, and let me know how I'm doing so far.  
xo.


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